


Return

by madsthenerdygirl



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 15:26:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6381874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madsthenerdygirl/pseuds/madsthenerdygirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's the only one who can make the beast a man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Return

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally posted on fanfiction.net in 2014 and is now being crossposted here along with my other work. Personally I think it's one of my weaker pieces but I promised myself I'd crosspost everything so here we are.

He stumbled along the main road, oblivious to any passers-by. Most people were busy with work or school--a year of memories gone but life must continue--and so few were there to witness the Dark One, long thought dead, making his way along as if drunk, muttering to himself every so often.

The bell over the door of his shop tinkled. Bell to call Belle. He giggled. He wasn't as mad as he'd led Zelena to think he was, but oh, nearly dying and being in a cage for a year does things to you dearie.

"Be right out!" Her voice was the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard. It helped to clear the fog in his head a little, and he leaned heavily against an old chest of drawers.

"How can I help…" Belle's voice died away as she took in the sight before her. She swallowed. "Rumple?"

He tried to smile, but he thought it might have come out more as a grimace. "Missed me?" He asked.

She hurried across the room, and he wanted nothing more than to hold her, to smell her hair and feel her against him again, in his arms, but he held up a hand. "Not so fast, sweetheart. Haven't you heard it's dangerous to approach wild animals?"

Belle halted, but her expression didn't change. Never afraid, his beauty.

"Who did this to you?" She asked.

"Because because because because because," he sing-songed, "Because of the horrible things she does!"

Belle's brow furrowed. "The Wicked Witch of the West? From Oz?"

"Real name is Zelena," he giggled, but it turned into a hacking cough.

"Rum," Belle came forward. "What did she do to you? How did you get like this?"

"Who let the beast out, you mean?" He asked. Her hands on his cheeks were cool and soothing, tempering the fever of madness in his brain.

"You're not a beast," she replied automatically.

He opened his mouth to reply, but she gave him a look that silenced him. "Come on--you have to see the additions to the shop."

She showed him around, reminding him of objects he'd had before, showcasing the new ones and letting him know of the ones she'd sold. Going over his shop, the ledger and the accounts, was methodical and everyday and helped to calm him immeasurably. He knew it would take time to fully heal, but with Belle there he knew he had a good chance of a swift recovery.

A few customers came and went, but he kept to the back room and let Belle handle them. She dealt with them marvelously, and he felt a surge of pride. She'd handled him, and the shop, and everything else that came her way so well. She was brave and strong, and she'd always saved him.

He knew she could save him again.

"Shall we go home?"

He blinked, not realizing how much time had passed. "Are you sure you'll feel safe with me, dearie?"

Belle smiled, walking over and kneeling in front of him, her hand on his knee. "I've never felt anything but safe around you," she informed him.

She helped him to stand, so many months of sitting in a confined space having aggravated his knee, and fetched his cane, which she confided she'd kept behind the counter this entire time.

They walked slowly, Rumpelstiltskin forced to lean on Belle despite the help of the cane, sharing a warm silence until they got to the house. He hadn't spent a lot of time there until Belle had come to live with him, bringing a true sense of life and care to the place. She helped him up the stairs and to the bed, insisting he let her help him get ready.

"We'll have Dr. Whale take a look at your leg tomorrow morning," she told him, rummaging through his pajama drawer.

"I doubt our allies would appreciate the delay on receiving my expertise," he replied dryly.

"You've been held captive for a year at the least, Rum," Belle insisted. "I'm sure they can… wait…"

Her voice trailed off, wavering dangerously. "Belle?" He asked.

There was no response, but he saw her gripping the edge of the drawer tightly. With difficulty he got up and made his way across the room to her. Tears were streaming down her face as she bit her lip to muffle her sobs, and he felt new hatred bloom for Zelena. People could do what they liked to him--they'd all get their reward in the end--but Belle was untouchable. Belle was precious, beautiful inside and out, smart and caring and strong, and those that dared to wrong her wouldn't live very long. He'd make sure of it.

"Sweetheart," he whispered. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. She'll pay for this, I swear I will make her pay."

"I don't care about that," Belle whispered. "I'm just so glad to have you back I… we hadn't even said goodbye, and the other day someone came in and saw the sign out front and assumed I was your wife and now…" Belle sniffed, drawing herself upright, and opened her clenched left hand.

He knew what it would be before he saw it, memory returning in a flash. He'd hidden it in this drawer because he knew she wouldn't go in there, knowing he liked to do things for himself in spite of his leg. The box was black velvet, the ring inside holding a delicately carved diamond. He'd known she wouldn't want anything big or ostentatious, but he'd made sure that the setting was elegant. He'd wanted to give her a ring that, when people saw it, gave them little doubt how much she was cared for.

Belle spoke before he could, doing her best to reign in her tears. He knew how she hated crying. "I love it, I do, and it doesn't make me unhappy--it makes me terribly, terribly happy in fact, and I… it just makes me think of how many years we lost before, because I was stupid and–"

"I was a coward," he interrupted.

Belle laughed. "Yes, you were," she said, voice full of affection. "But then this time, I thought I'd lost you for good, and sometimes it would have been nice, you know, to be able to say that yes, I was Mrs. Gold because at least I'd have that, at least I could say that we made that promise and I was yours and you were mine…"

"I am yours, and you are mine," he rebuked her, gently. "We don't need a ring for that, sweetheart." He reached up, gently brushing her tears away. "But it would have been nice." He smiled, self-deprecatingly. "I wanted the moment to be right, maybe after we'd finished the whole mess with Pan… I should've just gone and done it."

Belle smiled. "Maybe."

"We can, you know," he told her. "We can find someone--I think that damn psychiatrist got registered but if not  _somebody_  in this town will to be able to perform the ceremony. We could have a big thing, if you wanted, or–"

Belle shook her head. "No. No, just us. Please, Rum. We never get something for just the two of us. Let's do it this time. We can go and make it private, and nobody has to know until they see the rings on our fingers."

He smiled, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "Whatever you want, sweetheart."

Belle smiled back, leaning in so that their noses brushed. "I want you," she whispered, her voice husky.

She brushed her lips against his, but he hesitated. "Are you sure, dearie? The Scarecrow doesn't have all of his brain at the moment."

Belle kissed him softly. "I'm always sure," she replied.

She pulled back, her hands running down his arms to interlink their fingers, tugging him along. He followed her, letting her lead him back to the bed. He marveled at how steady her hands were. His were trembling slightly, exhaustion, madness, sorrow, anticipation and love all intermingling, making a thrill run through his blood and nearly overwhelming him.

Suddenly he couldn't bear to not touch her and he stepped forwards, gently pushing her back onto the bed as he kissed her. She tasted sweet and floral, like her favorite tea. He kept kissing her, unable to do more, wanting her to take the lead. He was lost in his head, and he wanted to be lost in her.

"It's okay," she whispered. Her fingers trailed up his sides, deftly unbuttoning his shirt. He remembered what clothes he'd been dressed him, and a fresh wave of anger and shame washed over him. Someday, very soon, he was going to make Zelena pay for his humiliation, his dehumanization. But now,  _now_  was for him and his beautiful Belle.

He peppered her neck with kisses, the scent of her hair hitting him as he brushed it out of the way with his nose. "So beautiful," he murmured, bestowing a kiss to her jaw just below her ear. He knew without looking that her eyes were closed, as they always were. At first he had mistaken it for a lack of self-esteem, but then he had realized that it was her way of savoring the moment. He found it incredibly endearing.

"Missed you," Belle sighed, finally slipping his shirt off and winding her arms around his neck. She smiled up at him, her eyes hooded. "I thought I wouldn't ever get this again."

He recalled his own years alone, thinking her dead, thinking that he had failed her, and he held her all the tighter. "You won't ever have to go through that again," he promised her.

Belle didn't respond verbally, but another tear ran down her face, and she laughed. "You're crying!" She pointed out.

He felt the warm liquid on his face, and realized that she was right. Funny, he hadn't noticed. "So are you darling," he replied.

Belle blushed a little, running her hands through his hair, her nails scraping deliciously at his scalp. "Well, no more of that, then," she said determinedly. "You still need to get my clothes off."

He knelt back on the bed, giving her room to shimmy out of her dress. He swallowed hard, his mouth watering as the inches of her skin were slowly exposed to his gaze. It had been so long since he'd even seen her, never mind gotten to have her like this.

His hands reached out of his own accord, sliding across the soft expanse of skin, reveling in the feel of it. Belle hummed approvingly, letting him lay her down beneath him, her thick chestnut hair spilling around her head. Her eyes were warm and dark, and he found himself drowning in them a little.

But then she propped herself up on her elbows and kissed him, and all coherent thought fled.

They kissed ferociously, what had been slow and gentle kindling into an inferno of touch and heat, hands roaming with abandon over their neglected skin. He growled into the kiss as her hands raked through his hair again, both of them possessing and possessed in their turn. She felt soft yet strong and absolutely perfect against him. His hands glided over her back, feeling the bumps and ridges of her spine before his fingers buries themselves in her hair, becoming hopelessly tangled. He was hopelessly ensnared, caught up in her, and he couldn't care less.

"So beautiful," He whispered, awe tinging his voice. He bent down to suck at her neck, feeling her arch against him. He liked marking her, marring the perfect skin. It felt like an apt description of their relationship. That someone so pure, so brave and strong and selfless, should choose a monster like him had always been a mystery, and he suspected it would remain so for the rest of his life.

Belle pushed his head lower, a gasp catching in the back of her throat. He obliged her, kissing his way down to her breasts and taking a rosy nipple into his mouth. He added a slight nip of teeth, delighting in the throaty, rumbling groan that worked its way out of her throat. He sucked hard, releasing his mouthful with a lewd wet sound to run his lips and tongue over the rest of her. Oh, how he'd dreamed of this. His fingers, still nimble from all the spinning he'd been doing, danced downwards and sought out the space between her thighs, teasing her with light touches but never filling her up completely. She was achingly wet, and the dark part of him inwardly crowed in triumph at how he could make her feel.

"Rumple…" She insisted, her hips bucking up to grind against him.

"Careful, sweetheart," he warned. "Won't last long if you do that."

"Then hurry it up," she replied, arching an eyebrow. "I don't want to wait anymore, I just…" She seemed to decide that actions and not words were best used here and yanked him back upwards, sealing their mouths together again. He slid two fingers inside, his thumb against her clit, working her up even more.

"Rum," she whispered, peppering his face with kisses. "My handsome beast."

He chuckled. She was the only one allowed to call him that, because she was the only one who used that name with affection.

Belle's hips were rolling against him in earnest now, and while he had been joking it wasn't a lie--he wouldn't last long, not after such a dry spell. Shifting up onto his knees, he took himself in hand and guided them together, Belle's legs falling further apart obligingly. He entered her as slowly as he dared, taking his time. He hadn't spent as much time preparing her as usual, and last thing he wanted was to hurt her. Belle was breathing deeply, and he could both hear and feel the hitch in her breath, her chest stuttering against his as he moved in deeper.

"Tell me if it hurts, darling," he begged.

Belle smiled up at him, her legs wrapping around his waist so that she could hook her ankles together. "I'm all right, I promise."

He nodded, stroking her cheek for a moment before planting his hands. He moved slowly--her mind might be ready but he wasn't taking any chances with her body--his rhythm steady and deep. Belle's head tipped back, a steady flush creeping over her cheeks and chest as he thrust. Her heels dug into his back encouragingly and he began to move faster, her lips parting and harsh pants starting to make themselves heard.

"Is that good?" He asked. "Belle, does it feel good?"

She nodded, trying to bite her lip before a gasp escaped her and failing. "Faster," she demanded. He obliged her, several soft kisses bestowed upon him as a reward. He wanted to make this good for her. He wanted to make her scream. He moved as hard and fast as he dared, thinking--not for the first time--that they were lucky the bed was such a sturdy antique. Belle murmured encouragements and endearments, and he could feel her smile against his ear as her hands massaged at his shoulders and back. Once he shifted his hips and found that perfect spot, the one that had her moaning in his ear, he felt the darker, manic side clamoring to be sated.

He smiled darkly, hitting hard and deep again. This time he stopped, holding himself inside of her. Belle paused, turning her head to look at him. Something of his mischief must have shown on his face, because she flung her head back onto the pillows with a groan.

"Rumple,  _move._ "

He tilted his hips and pulled almost all the way out, thrusting back in and hitting that spot again. He paused once more, waited for her to insist, and then did it again. Of course Belle, clever thing that she was, figured it out pretty quickly.

"Rum, if you don't stop teasing and fuck me into this mattress then  _so help me-_ "

He snaked his hand down and rolled her clit between his thumb and forefinger, moving deep inside her at the same time. Belle gave a groan and raked her nails over his back, her eyes sliding shut. "Yes, just… just like that, Rumple, please," She cried out, her words becoming more impassioned the longer he worked her. He worked faster, hoping that he took care of her soon because he wasn't going to last and he had done many, many evil things without regret but he felt like a cad if he came first (and he doesn't need Archie to analyze  _that_  for him, thank you). He tried reciting magical ingredients in his head, but it was all too much. She was so beautiful, writhing beneath him like a kind of goddess, her gorgeous voice hoarse and wrecked, her hair in disarray and it was all for him, his to claim and cherish until the end of time, and he simply couldn't hold himself back any longer.

He stiffened, his body wracked with tremors as he was consumed with pleasure. He heard Belle cry out, wild and almost musical, and he felt her hips buck up wildly against him. He had a moment to be grateful (and, let's be honest, a little gleeful) that his climax had triggered hers before sensation shot through him like a coiled spring and he was lost to the world.

His senses returned to him slowly, one by one. First came touch, as he became aware of Belle's hands carding through his hair. Second was hearing, her soft hums reaching his ears, so soft he couldn't make out the tune. And, finally, sight, Belle's face slowly swimming into view next to him. His head was on her shoulder and their bodies were enmeshed together, sweat and all, and Belle was smiling softly down at him with wonder in her eyes.

"I was just thinking…" She said, quietly, "How lucky I am."

He chuckled instinctively. "You're saddled with a beast several hundred years older than you who's shrouded in darkness on a good day and currently half mad," he replied. The self-deprecation was instant and instinctive.

Belle shook her head. "I'm engaged to an intelligent, powerful man who loves very deeply and is willing to do anything to protect those he cares about."

He felt tears prick his eyes, but he blinked them that. There'd be time for that later; gods knew he'd have a complete breakdown before this entire mess was dealt with. But right now he was safe and cared for. Tomorrow there'd be time for plotting and planning, with his beauty--his best and brightest lieutenant--by his side. Tonight was for the lover he'd never dared dream of or thought he'd ever deserve, but had been fortunate enough to find anyway.

"Well, in that case…" He made his way as best he could to the dresser, where the small velvet box still lay, set aside for their lovemaking. He removed the ring and climbed back into the bed, sliding it around her finger.

"I was just thinking how lucky I am," Belle repeated. She smiled at him, the ring glinting on her finger. "I'm lucky because you always come back to me."

"And I always will," he assured her.

He kissed her one last time, feeling her eyelashes sweep against his cheeks as her eyes closed. Without opening them she broke the kiss, sliding down to snuggle against his chest, the smallest, sweetest of smiles on her lips.

"I love you," she murmured sleepily, almost as if she couldn't believe it.

"I love you too, my darling girl." He stroked her hair, pulling the blankets over them. Tomorrow was for revenge, but tonight was for love. "I've returned for good, I promise."

His only response was a contented sigh. Settling back against the covers, Belle still tucked in snug against him, Rumpelstiltskin smiled.

The Dark One had returned.


End file.
